Read Murder on the Bride's Side for Free Online Page B

hours later, I was seated on Elsie’s back terrace with Bridget, Colin, Peter, and Harry, watching the fireflies dart and weave across the wide lawn and breathing in the lingering fragrance of nearby rosebushes. As flashes of silvery water from the James River peeked through the trees, lazy images of the Old South (or at least David O. Selznick’s sanitized version of it) featuring chivalrous young men and demure ladies floated before me.
    “Christ,” said Bridget. “I need a drink. Anyone else?”
    Harry rolled his eyes at Bridget before turning to Colin. “She’s like a delicate flower, my cousin is.”
    “Oh, shut up,” Bridget said, kicking him. “I expect you want one, too.”
    “Ow!” said Harry, shifting his long legs out of Bridget’s reach. “Take those ridiculous shoes off before you hurt someone. And yes, now that you mention it, I do need a drink. You’ve no idea the intense craving for alcohol my lovely stepmother can inspire.”
    Colin stood up. “I’ll play bartender if you can refrain from swearing for ten minutes,” he said to Bridget. “Remember, my mother is a retired schoolteacher from Illinois.”
    “Your mother is not here,” Bridget retorted.
    “Think of it as practice for tomorrow,” said Colin.
    “Your mother loves me!”
    Colin paused behind her chair. “That she does,” he said, placing a kiss on top of her head, then ambling toward the drink cart.
    Bridget smiled up at him before turning back to Harry. “What did Roni do this time?”
    Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the cushioned patio chair. “She’s trying her damnedest to convince Dad to sell the Garden. Apparently, he’s received an offer.”
    Bridget’s eyes opened wide. “Sell the Garden? Can he do that?”
    “In a word, yes,” Harry said, taking a beer from Colin. He took a long swig. “And it looks like he just might, too.”
    “Jesus!” whispered Bridget.
    “Bridget!” admonished Colin, as he handed her a glass of white wine. “You’re not even trying!”
    Bridget took the glass from Colin without looking at him. Her eyes still trained on Harry, she took a quick sip. “Sorry, but this is huge! Does Elsie know?”
    “Oh, yes. For a moment, I thought she was going to lunge across the table at Roni. Of course, if she had, I sure as hell wouldn’t have stopped her.”
    “What happened next?”
    “Nothing. Dad shut down the conversation and we were reduced to shooting evil looks at Roni’s beautiful empty head.”
    “I still don’t understand what he sees in her,” Bridget continued, playing with the delicate stem of the wineglass.
    “Well, he’d been alone for so long,” said Harry slowly. “I think he saw what he wanted to see.” Harry was silent. Harry’s mother, Ann, had died when he was just a boy. That would have been painful for anyone, but for Harry it was made all the worse because of his own illness. At age six, Harry had been diagnosed with leukemia. His mother, a devout Catholic, had prayed and prayed that he would get better. And he did. Two years later, when Ann was diagnosed with breast cancer, Harry had prayed just as his mother had. But in spite of his fervent prayers, she died. Harry was left feeling that he hadn’t prayed hard enough to save her.
    Harry took another long pull from his beer and stood up. “Right. Well, I’m off to bed.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, sweetie. Peter,” he said, extending his hand, “I guess I’ll see you later, since we’re bunking together. It was nice to meet you.”
    “You, too,” Peter replied.
    “Good night, Colin. Good luck tomorrow,” Harry said, shaking his hand as well. Turning to Bridget, he pulled her into a tight hug. “All the best tomorrow, Bridgie. And you swear all you want,” he said, releasing her and turning for the house. “After all, I’ve got a hundred bucks riding on it.”
    Bridget flopped back into her chair and looked at me. “He doesn’t look